Healer

Chapter 8

"I'm feeling rather tired," I whisper to Symon, over my untouched food, aware of his uncle's intense gaze beside him.

"Are ye well?" William utters, glancing briefly at Symon. I smile softly, hoping to give nothing away and nod.

"Yes, I'm truly exhausted."

"Aye? Knitting will do that to ye," he says smugly, leaning back in his seat. Symon, clearing his throat, nods, dismissing me. I cannot help glaring over in William's direction as I stand, setting down my napkin onto my plate.

Normally that kind of comment would irritate me to no end, but right now, I'm just glad I'm able to get out of here. MacCallan came and went within minutes, offering a fleeting but reassuring glance in my direction before he exited into the dark hallway.

I make my way in that direction, forcing my feet to remain slow and paced. Because I am anything but. Closing the door to my bedroom, I feel a grin excite my face as I reach for my cape with haste.

The sky is dark outside the window, mysterious and cloudy, yet oh so inviting.

Grabbing the handle, I pull and look in both directions before scurrying down the hall, careful not to click my heels against the stone too much. The last thing I need is to direct more attention to myself.

There's a hum- a woman's voice- I press myself quickly against the wall, waiting for the sound to disappear. When it does, I risk a look around the corner and find the dimly-lit hall to be empty, leading to the south entrance.

My fingers clasp the handle and pull quickly and I'm outside. I'm outside but I'm not clear of the danger of being caught yet. I still have to get around the men guarding the castle. The plan I concocted while I pretended to eat was to go through the chapel and out the southern entrance- the only area that doesn't have a guard, which will lead me straight towards the willow tree I believe MacCallan was speaking about.

If he's not there, well... then I can panic.

The gardens sing softly, the winds and insects rejuvenated and alive in the darkness, shaded by the lush vegetation all around me as I come upon the chapel. A small, private place, usually used only for prayer by the people living in the castle. The windows are stained glass- worn down now. As I hurry through, I wonder how long this has been here. Vines of leaves curve in through one side of the wall, through a open passageway to the roof.

Two candles are lit among the mantle, while the others have already burnt out black. Distracted by the grand beauty of such a small place, I press my hand to my curved lips, momentarily transported back to a time where I dreamed of seeing such things.

It's a rarity in the 21st century to see majestically sound buildings from history. It's devastating how many monuments have turned to ruin over the years. And it occurs to me- that I'm pleased, that even in the horror that surrounds my life, that I still have enough hope in me to appreciate the beauty at the edge of my toes.

Callan.

I come back to reality, blinking rapidly and chuckle, knowing I'm unable to set aside the inner historian in me. The southern door takes a couple of pushes to open but I manage, sighing with relief when I see the willow, still far away but finally in sight.

Picking up my skirts, I set off in a sprint, finally clear of the castle. The tall grass brush my stockings, leaving damp trails of dirt and water against them but I could care less.

I see him.

I grin wildly as I approach the tree, finding him seated, his back against the long trunk. The roots grow wild and high around him, showcasing the strength and agility of nature. With only his plaid wrapped around his shoulders- the Mackenzie plaid- a jacket, shirt and pants, armed with rough boots, I'd expect him to look frozen. He doesn't though, seeing me, he stands in a rush and sighs.

"I- wasnae sure you'd come."

I shake my head, stepping up to him. "I couldn't stay away."

"I'm glad," he murmurs warmly, reaching down to the ground. My heart flutters when he lifts a single thistle, violet in color. He clears his throat and chuckles, extending it to me. I take the flower in a delicate move, smiling softly.

"... Thank you."

We stare at each other, without words and feeling foolish, we both laugh, looking down.

He, thankfully, is the first to speak. "I truly dinna ken what to say to ye. I feel rather full of nerves presently."

"Even with the endless conquests everyday?" His brows turn down in confusion and I hum, pleased. "You have to know how many women wish to garner your attention daily, if even for a moment."

He scratches the back of his neck, rubbing with a chuckle. "Aye, I am aware of it... However, none of them have- seemed to touch my soul- as ye have. We've barely spoken and I feel- drawn to you, helplessly."

I set my hand over his, slowly and monumentally. After a moment of hesitation, he takes my hand, securing it in his grasp firmly. His other lifts to my face, until his thumb grazes the dark bruise under my eye.

"I felt as though I'd murder him- today, in the square. When he dared touch you... kiss you after- after what he did."

Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. "Don't think of him."

"How can I not? He's the only person in the way of what I want... Gillian, if I had the power, I'd take ye away from here. Take you to live with me where no man would ever lay a hand on ye in malice again. I cannae offer you what he surely can in means of-of grandness and status but I am a wealthy man."

"I don't care if you have money or not, Callan. I only want to be with you," I whisper, awed by my own words. Awed that I mean them. I trust him- I trust him to keep me safe, even only knowing him weeks. "Maybe I could-could speak with Sy-Lachlan, explain my feelings."

His eyes widen. "Nay, ye mustn't. There's no speaking with him on the subject- I tried that already."

"You what?"

"Well, of course, not outright but I asked him about ye, when I met with him yesterday about a trip coming up. About what he felt for ye."

"And?"

"And- all I can say, is he isnae going to let ye go without a fight. The man's mad about you."

I look down, shaking my head. "There has to be a way."

"If there is, I haven't seen it."

"Then... why are we torturing ourselves right now? This will only make it worse in the end."

His long, bare fingers travel along mine, slow and searching. I stare at them together, calmed at the sight.

His voice is low and thick when he speaks again. "I'll take whatever time I can with ye, gladly, for as long as it's possible... I understand though if that isnae something you'd want to do."

"W-what have we got to lose?" I utter, chuckling nervously, knowing the answer. He clarifies it anyway.

"Everything."

I look up at him, hesitantly. But once our eyes meet, I know I have to take this. I have to go through with this- not only because I'll at least have something to remember when I marry Symon, trapped in the loveless marriage but because- this is a chance for love.

A chance to experience something I've never felt.

When I feel Callan's head rest against mine and the soft sigh leave his mouth, I realize- suddenly- that it may be a lot easier to fall in love than I had once imagined.